I Don't Just Make Cakes
by yopurpledude
Summary: New summary: Dewey centric. A stranger comes up to Dewey with a surprising story about Scrooge and looking for help, so what does he do? Jumps in head first into this new adventure while searching for answers. However, what will his family think about the secrets once more? Will his brothers lose their trust in him? Includes Webby, brothers, Donald, Scrooge, and oc. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Don't own DuckTales

Authors note: I'm an amateur at this. I'm not at all near professional and the past few days of uploading my Ducktales story I keep updating it because I'm trying to figure out how I want it laid out and all. I figured at least 2k- 3k words a chapter and one up every week or five days. If I even have the chapter written by then. But I am determined to finish this story no matter how many views it gets because I'm obsessed with this show and need a creative outlet. It also improves my writing so eh... Enjoy. :)

CHAPTER 1

The patter of rain battling against the window showed evidence of the broken record drought in the city. Most of Duckburg still slept as this occurrence continued though, and as the dark monster clouds continued to engulf the city, it made its way to McDuck Manor. However, Donald liked to think over these ten years of caring for the triplets that he had gotten better at actually being able to sleep even through the loud noises of hard winds and usually the hollering of the boys. Apparently sleep wasn't a big thing in his agenda, before and after, living with the snobby trillionaire duck because as the storm blew away trees so did his opportunity to keep sleeping.

A sigh escaped the duck's mouth as he stared up annoyingly at the ceiling of his boat room. He could feel the growing waves in the giant pool move his boat like it would on the ocean, and it had almost rocked him asleep again if it wasn't for the rain inevitably making noise. It reminded him of the times that were literally just three weeks before with the boys bouncing around the boat and yelling at each other to be quiet. He knew he would turn his head to read the clock and it would be another few hours when he would start losing his temper and began handing out punishments for waking him up, but that would be a few weeks ago.

A few weeks since those devious boys tricked their babysitter to going to a different address in who knows where and his only choice of having to confine with Scrooge to watch them. At these few seconds of time to himself he wished for the times on the ocean, but there was no doubt in his mind that the boys would get into bigger trouble and danger if he waited any longer. He just guessed that time came earlier than he thought.

Shaking his head, Donald pulled his old blanket away from his body not even flinching at the cold air from years of having to do the same thing every cool morning for his probable one day job. "I really need to start that new schedule of sleeping in." He mumbled to himself, pulling his body weight from his bed and over to the closet. The doors creaked opened as he hastily grabbed his blue raincoat and tugged it on.

The duck prepared himself for what was to come as he met the exit of the boat house and slowly tried to open the main door, but the wind barged in and threw the door banging against the outside wall. Rain poured in through the opening, and he had to put his arms up to protect his face from the needle like lashes as he barreled into the darkness. Getting the door shut was the most challenging part of his early morning, he quickly realized upon having his hands slip from the handle a fourth time.

He felt anger boil up in his body. He narrowed his eyes dangerously and let out one of his fits similar to the one during the staple incident and slammed the door shut not caring if it even clicked shut as he stiffly turned and trudged out of the boat and into the trillionaire's house.

Relief finally settled in when his back straightened up against the manor's side entrance door after violently shutting it behind him. He was tired, and he was betting the need of a coat was no longer needed. Donald, breathing hard, silently watched water drip from the tip of his beak and down to the wooden floors, creating a small puddle to add to the much larger one gathering around his feet. He needed a moment to gather himself again.

"Are you going to stand there all morning or are you going to go get dried up?" A British voice addressed him, breaking the silence.

He didn't have to look up to know it was the crazy housekeeper. Looking up was almost too much effort for him, so instead he nodded while lowering his head until it hit his chest. "Right…" It was his best chance of communication with the woman at this hour as he walked away from her.

Ms. Beakley didn't say a word as she watched him take his leave, and only an audible sigh left her when she stared at the water tracks, shaking her head.

Dewey didn't exactly know how long he slept when he awoke abruptly in the dark. It had actually felt like he didn't sleep at all, and the second he looked over to the two other twin beds across the room his thoughts of no sleep diminished. He remembered Huey being awake and reading his book before Dewey had promptly decided to go to sleep.

He rubbed his eyes roughly and brought his blue comforter higher up to his chin as he sat up. A draft must have came in, he concluded, staring longingly at his brothers who were asleep. There was no way he was gonna be able to go back to sleep now that he was hearing the storm from outside and noise downstairs. Dewey frowned in thought. What could he do in this super early morning? Not even Webby or Scrooge would be up at this time, at least not for a little while longer, but then who was being so loud downstairs?

With that in mind, Dewey jumped out of bed and silently bounced out of the room, dodging random things on the hardwood floor. When he got to the door, he paused and considered the thought of actually picking up some of those things. If he cleaned up their room now, he would most likely get tired enough to fall back asleep. The only downside to that was actually having to clean, and he was pretty sure that expertise went to the one and only Ms. Beakley.

He snickered quietly, entering the dimly lit hallway and making sure to keep the door open a crack. Dewey made his way towards the stairs and took note of the many trophies Scrooge hung up on his walls. He went as far as wiping a finger across a metal boot looking artifact and silently wondered if it would come to life and attack him, but after inspecting the amount of dust collected on his finger he knew this was a waste of time.

Another five minutes passed, and he still wasn't feeling the effects of drowsiness he was hoping for. He really wanted to go back to bed where it was warmer, but he was too restless to do so. He briefly stopped and wondered that maybe if he went into the garage that he'd stumble onto something that would no doubt make him have to go on some adventure that would wipe him out completely. Then it also occurred to him, once in a blue moon, that he'd probably get himself killed.

In frustration he balled up his fists and kicked the wall with his bare foot. A loud banging echoed followed by the sound of him yelping and jumping up and down with his hurt foot in hand.

He could be really stupid and this counted as one of those times. He knew that and didn't need to be told it. He remembered the many times he's gotten in trouble for jumping before looking where he was gonna land. It had become a hobby of his, and his brothers knew to either agree with him and make sure he didn't get hurt or tie him up to a chair and be sure to keep a watchful eye, so it was no surprise to him that he picked up some of Uncle Donald's little episodes that he's so known for.

Dewey almost wanted to laugh at that, and he would have if he wasn't interrupted from his thoughts. He felt something wet under his foot before he was suddenly feeling gravity take hold and was staring up at the ceiling with an aching back.

"Ugh…" He moaned into the vacant hallway that became more colder than before, and he shortly wondered if the floor was always this hard or if it was just him.

Why was there water on the floor? More importantly how come he didn't notice it? Did that mean there was some kind of water monster in the manor? He could feel the water slowly soaking into his nightshirt and the chilly floor becoming even more so. The duck squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking in the throbbing feeling that spread throughout his body. Maybe he could just stay right here and fall asleep. A couple hours in this position wouldn't hurt, right? Eyes opening, he reminded himself of what his brothers would do if they found him like this. With their crazy thinking, they'd probably draw a mustache on him or make him look like a murder scene and that was the best outcome because blackmail would no doubt come up as well and waking up to being in a pink dress was not funny a third time.

"Well good morning."

Dewey frowned, lifting his back up off the ground and turning to see Webby smiling down at him. "Uhh… hi?"

She cocked her head to the side and shifted in her purple flower nightgown already full of energy. "So did you just come from outside or is there a leak in the roof?"

"What?" He was standing up by now bent over with a hand on his hip, aiding himself to straighten out.

Webby took a few bouncing steps forward. "You're all wet, so I thought- Eek!" Her feet came out from under her where the puddle of water sat quietly waiting for its prey, and she threw her hands out in an attempt to catch herself on something, but came up with nothing as Dewey tried to grab her hand. They both ended up back to the hard floors and legs up in the air.

"You know," Dewey started, huffing at being on the floor once again, "just because I slipped doesn't mean you have to too."

A scowl was enough for him to shut his beak and turn his head back to the way he was heading. "Right. Yeah, i'll just get going." Dewey stated, standing up and brushing off his clothes like the water would magically come off.

"I'll come with you," Webby all but shouted and scrambled to her feet to join him to the stairs. "But we should really clean that up."

Dewey shrugged. "Nah, that's why Scrooge hired you're grandma." It didn't come out rude as Webby jumped ahead of him and slid down the railing. "How do you do that?"

She gave him a questioning look when she landed on the first floor without so much as a sound. "What do you mean? I see you do things like that all the time."

The blue duck took tentative steps down the stairs, knowing that another fall was not in his interests. "I'm pretty sure i've never surfed down a railing before."

"You slid down the stairs with your Uncle's surfboard from Puerto Rico a few days ago."

Dewey stopped short on that comment with wide eyes. "How did you learn about that?"

"What? I-I don't know what you're talking about?" She quickly ended, crossing her arms in defiance and avoiding his face even when he stepped off the stairs and gave her a scrutinizing look.

"You sure? Because on that particular day i'm pretty sure you were out with Lena, right?" Dewey poked her in the ribs, earning him a loud squeak.

"I have cameras!" She burst out, breathing heavily like she was holding it in for years. She was met with a look from Dewey that prompted her to explain more. "I have cameras… I set them up around the house when you guys moved in."

"Why…?" He wasn't sure if this was just normal for Webby or if she was really going the extra mile with the whole friend thing. "Hold on. Where did you put them?" A different question came to mind, knowing Webby's little trait of stalking others.

She swallowed. "Oh you know… the basic layout areas. All the rooms I could get in, the hallway, kitchen, front door, living room-"

Dewey shook his head. "Nope. No. Nevermind. As long as they aren't in my room and the bathroom, I don't care."

"Well…"

"As long as they aren't in my room and the bathroom, I don't care." He repeated, narrowing his eyes at her in a warning. Webby looked down at the ground and dug her foot into the floor. Dewey's eyes softened, and he made a slight move to walk away but shook his head and grabbed Webby's hand, pulling her with him to the kitchen. "let's go get a snack."

Webby followed without a complaint. "The pink fluffy sugar snacks, right?"

"Well I mean you can have one of those, but i'm taking that slice of chocolate cake."

"What!?" Webby planted her foot on the ground and yanked Dewey back. "That's Scrooge's cake!"

Dewey scrambled to place a hand over her mouth before anything else slipped through. "I know, I know, but Scrooge isn't gonna eat it." He yelped in disgust when Webby licked his hand and was quick to try to wipe it off. "That's grosser than Louie picki-"

"That cake is one of the finest cakes ever made! The bakers at Spring Cakes are known to be the best and most experienced in the entire world and to even take one bite of that cake you would be blown away from the amount of texture and taste piled in one single slice is beyond our life."

"I'm still not understanding-"

"Scrooge has been talking about eating that expensive cake for weeks! And now that it's been delivered you're just gonna eat it?"

Dewey turned away from her and hastily went into the kitchen room, avoiding the drying up water trail. "For a change of subject i'm pretty sure someone, Donald, was the one who's making these water puddles." He didn't wait for a reply and skipped around the kitchen island to the giant stainless steel fridge.

"Breakfast I see."

Dewey jumped back in surprise and smacked his side into the counter, resenting the almost quacking sound that escaped him. "Do you guys train to sneak up on people or something!?" He yelled, throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation before wincing at his arm's throbbing. "I just wanted to get back to sleep…" He lamely ended in defeat.

Webby came up behind him with a big smile and patted his back. "Grandmother didn't mean it."

"Right…" He brushed it off, ignoring the housekeeper to open the fridge. He only had a second to search for the cake before the door was slammed shut revealing a large hand he was pretty sure was used to strangle people in the past.

"Let me rephrase. Breakfast is not for another few hours. Any reason why you're awake?" Beakley eyed Dewey and his wet clothes then flickered over to Webby who was sheepishly trying to hide behind the counter.

Dewey half smiled up at her, hoping she would just walk away. When the seconds ticked by, his smile fell, and he sighed in defeat. "Fine! I can't sleep and came down here to see what was up with the noise. Turns out it was just you-"

She nodded. "Cleaning your Uncle's mess."

"Yes, cleaning and being all noisy." He finished, crossing his arms over his chest and wishing that he never came downstairs in the first place.

Beakley gave him a strange look before turning her back to them and picking up a mop that was lazily leaned up against the white wall. "It is not my job to watch you, Dewey. My job is to keep things orderly and clean, so carry on with what you were doing." She silently inspected the floors and walked to the exit. "I do have to watch Webby though, so she better stay out of trouble."

Webby nodded rapidly and jumped up and down from behind the counter agreeing with her grandmother immediately. "Of course! I'm allergic to trouble anyways, so you don't have to worry about me! Except-" Dewey gave her a look. "Uhh… Nevermind. Have a good morning, grandmother!"

Dewey watched Beakley inflate a bit and walk away into the shadows of the house to continue cleaning up the water trails. "Okay then…" He turned away, opening the fridge the second time that morning. "Cake, cake, cake, where does Scrooge put his cake?"

"Check the-"

"Found it!" Dewey exclaimed, pushing back other food contents and bringing out a heavily chocolate covered cake from the back. As he put it in his arms to carry it, he felt the actual weight of the enormous cake. "Webby, a little help would be nice." He hinted over his shoulder.

"Hmm?" The girly duck half listened to Dewey as she stuck her head in a shelf above the stove. "How about you tell me instead where those pinky snacks are."

Dewey grumbled to himself as he watched her hunt for the snacks and trudged over to the counter, feeling the heavy weight of cake pull him down. Did those bakers put rocks in this or what? "Webby…" He tried once again hands slipping ever so slightly from the silver platter tray.

He must have looked like an idiot, he thought. Barely being able to stand with a giant cake in his hands moments away from ending up on the floor. He wondered how something like a thought of a slice of cake could end up to him inching closer to the table and probably a lot closer to trouble if it fell. "Please, please, please just hold on a bit longer." Dewey prayed.

"I still can't find the-"

"Webby!" He shouted for her attention again as his small muscles shook from the short exertion and finally gave way. "NO!" It was almost slow motion as the weight pulled the cake and himself down to the unforgiving hard floor.

"Hey Dewey, I bet they're in the fridge so they don't melt- oh no." Webby hopped off the counter from the other side of the kitchen with wide eyes. "You're in so much trouble." She ended with, staring at the scene.

"Webby! I asked for help! -And stop laughing!" Dewey shouted, spinning around.

"I'm trying-" she giggled even harder, forgetting about the pink treats. "but-" Webby cut herself off, falling to her knees with tears in her eyes. "You look absolutely ridiculous!" She fell on her side, howling in hysterics.

"Webby!" Dewey yelled at her again. He looked down at himself, wiping his hands down the front of his sleep shirt to try and scrub the chocolate off. "Geez, now I literally look like the cake." Pieces of cake stuck to him and crumbled in moist parts as he pulled at it, and to make things worse the chocolate frosting smeared deeper into his cotton shirt, leaving behind large brown spots.

It took five minutes of watching Dewey slip and fall in chocolate for Webby to be able to collect herself enough to stand back up and wipe at her eyes. "Do you need a wash cloth?" She offered, smiling wide.

"I think I need a shovel to get all this cake off." Dewey replied, not at all amused.

Webby continued to laugh as she pulled a rolling drawer out from next to the stove and took out a hand towel. After running it under some water, she handed it back to Dewey with shaking hands from barely held in chuckles. "I'm guessing the cake tasted so good you couldn't help yourself." She joked.

"I'm still not finding this funny." Dewey shot back, looking at the tip of his chocolaty finger and licking it clean. "Actually it does taste pretty good though." He admitted, grabbing a broken piece of cake from the ground and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Now that's disgusting!" Webby exclaimed.

Dewey looked over his shoulder at her and carefully grabbed a handful of cake laying on the ground in a pile. "What are you talking about? Beakley cleans these floors like every hour. You could eat off them if you wanted to which I am." He concluded, swiftly turning with a mischievous look in his eye and catapulting the dessert at Webby.

Unsurprisingly she dodged it with some sort of flip and narrowed her eyes at him. "Remember the Nerf bullets?" She asked.

Dewey's eyes widened to the size of plates and took a large step backwards away from her. "Hold on, Webby. There's no need to repeat that."

She smiled even bigger at him and stepped forward with confidence, putting on a pose of a superhero.

Her moment of spot light ended quickly though when a thought popped in Dewey's head. "My brothers."

"What?" Webby frowned and looked over at him.

He gave her a sly look as a plan formed. "My dear brothers have been pulling pranks on me for the past week, so why don't we get back at them?" He asked wickedly.

The idea dawned over her as she began thinking about the possibility of pelting her friends with cake like some type of raid. "That sounds fun."

He nodded, glancing at the mound of chocolate and grabbing two towels out of the drawer. "Here." He handed them to Webby. "Put some cake in these."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Dewey could not for the life of him stop smiling. He knew he was gonna get in so much trouble when his brothers would no doubt scream from being splattered with cake, but on the other hand seeing their faces surprised and covered from head to toe with chocolate was too good to pass up. "I am so glad I didn't go back to sleep." He commented, handing his fully stuffed towel to Webby.

They both stayed quiet for the rest of the time of filling up chocolate ammo in case Beakley came back and only occasionally said something until everything was ready.

Dewey had never felt so stupid and awesome at the same time. Him and Webby were packed with chocolaty bombs tied to some string they found and had criss-crossed them over their chests, making them look like children playing soldier and in a way they were.

"This better not backfire on us." Webby said, leading them up the stairs and into the hallway.

"Don't worry. This is just for some fun." He dismissed her, and Webby silently questioned if Dewey had thought of what his brothers might do for pay back.

It was already too late to back out when they both came up to the cracked door. Webby quietly jerked her head towards the entrance in a signal for him to go first. Dewey nodded in acknowledgement and tightened his hold on a ball of cake in his right hand. He slowly opened the door using his cake free hand and peaked inside, noticing nothing looked out of the ordinary.

"Come on." He whispered back at Webby, stepping over a particular large pile of dirty clothes in front of the door and walked over to the bed furthest away. "Oh Louie, Louie. I've been wanting to do this since you broke my favorite toy in 3rd grade."

"Shh." Webby brought a finger up to her beak and used her skills to dodge the string of wires plugged into an outlet next to a messy desk. "Don't you guys ever clean?" She relented the silence as she almost tripped once again on a crayon after passing the wires.

Dewey frowned, noticing the spot of the room she was on. "That's Huey's creative spot. He was adding another page to his book." He stated while taking a ready stance. "Hurry up before they start hearing us." He hissed over at her.

She looked like she was gonna say something but changed her mind instead and got closer to the red color coated bed. "Ready." Webby confirmed a smile back on her face.

"On three." Dewey instructed, squinting in the dark to make out the face of Louie peacefully sleeping. "One. Two-"

"Three!" Webby yelled out with a battle cry, and Dewey quickly drove his cake face first into the sleeping duck.

The two boys yelled in unison, sitting up at the same time with crazed looks. Dewey laughed loudly at their frantic faces before grabbing another chocolate filled towel from his ropes and chucking it at Louie. Cake sprayed across the walls and bed from impact, and a quick glance over at Webby's scene showed the same thing.

"STOP!" Huey screamed from across the room, most likely waking up the entire house before diving under his blanket for protection unlike Louie who brought up his arms to shield himself.

Both Webby and Dewey continued pelting them both. Dewey who was still covered mostly in cake from earlier was the first to break the onslaught and ran over to Webby. She had been shoving cake into the blanket for the past few minutes while Huey repeatedly yelled at her to stop. When Dewey made it over to them, he grabbed hold of the red blanket and yanked it away from the bed, exposing Huey to the cold air.

"What's wrong with you guys!?" He shouted tightening himself into a ball.

Dewey really felt bad. Really, he did. It wasn't everyday that he got to prank his brothers and actually have a plan go well to do so, but looking over his shoulder and noticing Louie staring at them with slight fear and anger all in one that usually was never on his face made him laugh even harder.

This was all short lived of course as the open slamming of a door against the wall stopper shut everyone up. "What is going on in here!?" Yelled the duck standing in the entrance of the door with his hands on his hips.

"Uncle Donald…" Dewey weakly acknowledged, lowering his hands.

The bright lights blinded Dewey as Donald flipped the switch on and scowled at what was in front of him. "You boys can't even sleep without being watched!"

Huey perked his head up slowly and stared down at Webby. "But Web-"

Donald shook his head on the verge of another fit and lecture. "No. You all are gonna clean yourselves up and this room! I don't want to see any dust or—oh I hope that's just chocolate!"

Dewey gulped down a reply to that and finally glanced around the room. Maybe he really should have thought harder before doing something like this. The cake wasn't just on the beds it was crammed into the corners where the walls met the floors and hanging above everyone's heads on the ceiling. They might as well just burn the room before they had to scrub it clean.

"But Uncle Donald! Huey and I were just-" Louie tried to defend himself as well as save himself from the monster of the room before he was interrupted.

"No buts! You're just as messy as everything else in this room! You might as well clean it anyways!" His breathing was hard as he brought up a hand to his beak to barely calm himself down and speak coherently. "You got till breakfast and if it isn't done by then you'll just have to skip Beakley's special blueberry pancakes." He threatened.

Louie's eyes widened, and he was quick to get down on his knees in front of his uncle. "No! Please! They're sorry! Don't take away the pancakes!" He shouted, hands clasped together in front of him, begging.

Donald shook his head, inspecting each duck in the room, and Dewey could tell he was not happy at all. Huey was uncomfortably sitting on used to be red sheets now turned brown with frosting smudged across his face and gathered under his pajamas. Louie was slipping on his knees from the cake as he continued to try and stay still, and Dewey really did not want to see himself in a mirror. While out of all of them, Webby was the most cleaned besides her hands since she used her skills to stay neat.

"Can I say something?" Dewey raised his arm slightly and didn't wait for an answer. "I'm really-," He paused, thinking over his words. Apologizing would be the best way to go, but that meant taking full blame even if it was his fault, and he really didn't feel like doing that especially to his brothers who he remembered breaking his toys and always messing around with him. He could be hard headed right now like they usually blame him for, right? "I am absolutely not sorry." He laughed instead, grabbing his side.

Donald would have shot lasers through his eyes if it was possible to show how angry he was. He spent the entire early morning drying himself up and making sure the houseboat wouldn't break apart from the strong winds, and now he had to deal with one of the duck's shameless prides.

"Dewey." He started, ready to hand out punishments, smugly. "You're grounded."

Said duck stopped laughing immediately. "What?"

Donald stomped his shoe-less foot hard down on the floor, making everyone freeze. He really hated being an adult at these moments, but the boys wouldn't learn if he didn't. "Dewey, you're ground until I say so, and everyone else clean up this mess."

Dewey straightened himself up, scrambling over to his uncle and ungracefully shoving Louie out of the way. This wasn't the crazy uncle he knew. He was too calm. "But Uncle Donald! I wasn't the only one who-"

"Come here." Donald pointed to the spot next to him, which Dewey reluctantly followed. Once he got in his uncle's range he was grabbed by the forearm and dragged out of the room. Dewey stiffly looked behind him to see his brothers' pointed looks, and Webby staring down at her feet in shame. He really screwed up.

"Uncle Donald, I didn't mean-"

"Shush." Dewey was cut off from his apology he should have given the first time around if it wasn't for his messed up logic.

The house was still pretty much dark even as light poked through the clouds and shined over the ocean in the window, and when they got to the stairs, Donald had to turn on the lights to not miss his step. Dewey was shoved a step to descend first with Donald right behind him.

"I was hoping you boys would start behaving since we moved in here, but I guess that'll never happen." He shook his head, and Dewey swore he's never seen his uncle so disappointed in his life even the time when he and his brothers were caught trying to move the boat while Donald was at his job interview. Things couldn't get any worse than this.

Donald grabbed hold of Dewey's arm again and lead him down another hallway that made something click in place for Dewey. He started forcing the heels of his feet in the floorboards to slow down their pace and turn his body backwards to face his Uncle and push him in the opposite direction they were walking.

"U-Uncle Donald! Please! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have touched that cake, and I really should have just said sorry!" He began begging, feeling his uncle's pace quicken towards his destination. "No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please!"

After another one-sided argument with his Uncle, they finally stopped in front of a pair of doors that Dewey really wished they hadn't as Donald shifted his hand to his shoulder. "He's probably not up. We should wait till later, don't you think?" He tried once again, and snapped his beak shut when Donald started to knock.

Dewey never thought of Scrooge being super scary. Being on a few adventures with him had dulled that feeling greatly, but there were times when everyone feared him and touching something Scrooge really didn't want you to earned yourself on his target list.

"This better be important." Came a gruff Scottish sounding threat from the other side of the door before it quickly opened and displayed the angry looking face of Scrooge McDuck. "Just because I was awake doing paperwork, doesn't mean i'm welcoming guests." He says as a matter of fact.

Donald composed himself instantly and pushed Dewey forward who instead stumbled one step and stopped hastily. "Dewey's got something to tell you."

Scrooge looked down in surprise before frowning. "Well out with it lad. I don't have all morning."

Dewey swallowed, peering up at his great uncle and feeling Donald remove his hand from his shoulder. It made him immediately miss the stability. "I uhh…" he dropped off unsure.

Another shove from Uncle Donald.

"I touched you're super huge and expensive cake." He speedily finished, closing in on himself.

"Oh." Is all Scrooge said with a carefully blank expression.

Another shove. "And I took a small bite."

One more and at this point Dewey was really considering hitting back. "And I may or may not have used it as something to hit my brothers with while they were sleeping."

"Hmm…" Scrooge brought a hand up and rubbed under his chin. "An' how did the wee lads take the beatin'?"

"Scrooge!" Donald yelped, pulling Dewey behind him. "We need to talk." The ex-sailor duck demanded before barging in Scrooge's study and twisting around to address Dewey. "Don't move."

The door slammed shut, making Dewey jerk back in surprise and slowly lower himself to the ground. "Bad Dewey, stay put Dewey." He mocked quietly to himself and glanced up for a second when his uncles' voices got louder. "Great idea Dewey." He lastly said sarcastically, setting his chin on the palm of his hand.

Dewey tried to stay as still as possible but it was quickly becoming a battle. The chocolate was beginning to harden and dry up, making his skin itch and feathers stick up in odd and uncomfortable directions. Would it be so bad to go and take a bath? It sounded like his uncles were gonna be at it for a long while anyways.

"Uncle Donald, Uncle Scrooge." He whispered with a smirk on his face that reflected Louie's famous one. "You don't mind if I go take a bath, do you?" Dewey cocked his head to the side, listening for any kind of reply.

He nodded, chuckling to himself when he heard nothing but muffled voices. "Okay i'll be back in a few." He announced as though they could hear him and tip toed further down the hall to the extra bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Sorry for the random updates refer to chapter 1 and I wrote my comment there. Sorry for the inconvenience if you read this. Again. Or at all. :)

**CHAPTER 3**

It was at least five in the morning, and twenty minutes later since Dewey left his arguing uncles. It was then when he got out of the warm water and dried off that he began wondering if anyone even noticed him gone, and he frowned at that thought. Surely his uncles couldn't still be having one of those 'adult discussions'.

Dewey tied his robe and took a quick check in the mostly fogged up bathroom mirror before grabbing the door handle and opening the door. He relinquished the feeling of clean feathers until his eyes fell upon a mid sized duck.

"I bet yer feelin' better, lad." The Scottish uncle started, pulling his weight off his cane. "An' that's good because now it will be easier to talk to ye and not my magnificent cake ye destroyed."

Dewey winced. "I'm really sorry about that Uncle Scrooge."

"If ye were sorry, ye wouldn't have done it in the first place." He poked. "Look, uhh, Dewey? Dewey. I've been talkin' to yer uncle, an' we came to a conclusion." Scrooge purposely looked away from the boy's face with a small smile. "An' we know the Webby child had also had a hand in it, so Donald's off to notify Beakley."

"So i'm not in trouble?" Dewey hopefully asked.

Scrooge barked out in laughter. "Oh my boy, ye are funny." Dewey's face quickly fell. "No. You are certainly still grounded as my nephew put it, but he asked me ta teach ye a few lessons." Scrooge quietly mumbled something else under his breath Dewey couldn't quite catch, but it didn't sound nice.

"Now i'm gonna show ye some hardship just like I did Louie last week. Ye can't be goin' around takin' things ye didn't work for an' with that I've got a job for ye."

Dewey stepped out further into the hallway and shut off the bathroom light, noticing that the natural outside light was coming in since the storm ended. "What's the job?" He mentally prepared himself despite having asked out of curiosity.

"Yee'll be bakin' cakes." Scrooge stated bluntly, watching his nephew's expression.

"Oh." He frowns slightly confused.

A smile tugs even higher on Scrooge's mouth at the clueless look. "Ye will be bakin' cakes at a bakery not far from my office out on the town until ye pay off my cake, an' ye will pay it off."

"Oh." Dewey lowers his head as the information sinks in. "H-how much did it cost?"

Scrooge clapped a hand down on the boy's shoulder, chuckling. "Don't worry, lad. Ye jus' make the cakes, an' i'll keep track of the money." He smiled, leading them both out of the hallway, passed his study and to the entrance part of McDuck Manor. "Yer brothers are waitin' fur you in the kitchen, an' they do not look like a welcomin' bunch this mornin'."

Dewey stopped short as Scrooge directed him to the kitchen. "Hey Uncle Scrooge?"

"Hmm?"

Pulling at a loose string on his white robe he pulled out of the bathroom closet, Dewey looked up to face his uncle. "Are you mad about the cake?"

Scrooge smiled despite himself and brought a hand down on his nephew's head, messing up the freshly washed hair. "I may be cheap, but I know it was jus' cake, an' yee'll have it payed off in no time."

Dewey smiled.

"That is if yee make twenty cakes a day fur four weeks." Scrooge butt in before taking his leave back to the study.

Dewey's face immediately fell when he heard the comment and twisted his body to face his uncle who looked to be running away. "Wait! How long!?" He yelled after him, but Scrooge didn't even miss a step. "Are you gonna pretend you didn't hear me?"

"What lad? I didn't quite catch tha' last part?"

He clasped his hands together and pulled them to his mouth to yell at his uncle but thought better of it, knowing Donald was probably in the kitchen by now and would hear him. Huffing, Dewey trudged into the kitchen like he had chains around his ankles and avoided the looks he only got a quick glance of. At least they look clean. He regarded.

"So what are your plans today, kind brother?" Louie breaks the tense silence and addresses Huey directly and very much loudly.

Dewey stepped up onto the chair quietly next to Webby who separated him from his brothers like the Great Wall and was grateful when Beakley made a plate of pancakes and sat it in front of him.

He nodded in appreciation and slowly ate, knowing Louie was about to get a lot more annoying. He was determined not to fall into his brother's little guilt game that usually ended up with him yelling and being demanded to stare at a corner.

Huey quickly caught on with what Louie was trying to do. "Well," he began, shooting a look at Dewey, "I was gonna go on a walk this morning and try and find one of the many insects in my Junior Woodchucks' scout book, but you know I have to clean up _chocolate_ now." He ended sharply while leaning over his brother sitting next to him to grab a couple freshly cooked pancakes on a plate.

"Thanks for the pancakes by the way Beakley." Huey complemented, knowing the close call he and Louie had with not getting them.

Dewey scratched at his leg awkwardly and slowly turned his head to the left to peer at everyone. Webby was right next to him, and he could tell she was trying her best not to explode with energy and had to remind herself to be silent by occasionally glancing at her frowning grandmother who was cooking early breakfast.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she shook her head slightly not looking at him with a tiny smile, mouthing, 'It was worth it'.

He drew back in surprise and quietly spoke. "How much trouble are you in?"

"Just staying in the manor for a few days and helping grandma clean." She whispered back, shrugging like this was an already usual daily task for her.

Dewey shook his head. Why couldn't he get that for a punishment? He would gladly clean up all that chocolate if that meant not being grounded until who knows when and baking cakes for the same amount of time, and as he stole another look towards Webby, he knew she thought herself lucky compared to him even when she didn't know the extent of his punishment.

With her out of the way, Dewey took better notice at the rest of his family, and it was kind of funny in a strange way as he took in everyone's stances. Huey was right after Webby and was doing his best to stay focused on his food while engaging in small talk with Louie who for the life of him couldn't shut up.

The red duck shifted his hat upon catching a glimpse of Dewey's observant stares and worked harder at pretending he didn't notice. Louie on the other hand didn't seem to care less about Dewey except to make him feel guilty about what happened. He was casually leaning back in his chair and slurping down pancakes like he was king of the hill and it was starting to get on Dewey's nerve.

Dewey knew his brothers well enough that they both hated giving him the silent treatment but were too angry to break it. He knew what they were both thinking. It was completely obvious; however, he just couldn't get past the fact that they were being as cold as they were over some cake bombing joke especially Uncle Donald, who was seated further away from everyone.

He looked years older than what he and his brothers thought his age was, and it reminded Dewey of the hard times on the houseboat when Donald would come home from another fired job, and it usually would be up to himself and Louie to think of a plan to get his mind off of the financial problems while Huey secretly went online surfing for easy ways to make cash at the library.

Dewey mentally shook his head from a familiar picture of a tired Donald hunched over bills and choked back a small cry of anger over the fact that his uncle was in this state once again over some stupid cake. He didn't want to look at another cake for as long as he lived, and him knowing he'll have to be making them for such a long time almost made him throw up the pancakes he was currently eating.

"Hey Webby?" Louie called over.

The said duck jumped in her seat and turned to look at Louie wide eyed. "Yeah?"

"After we clean up, you want to play a game with us?" Huey nodded in agreement, staring at her expectantly.

Webby opened her mouth to reply but hesitated and shot a glance at Dewey before smiling and shaking her head. "Sorry guys, but I think Dewey and I were planning on doing something later." She politely declined getting back to eating.

They didn't say another word aside from staring a bit longer passed Webby before turning back to their conversation and ignoring Donald's raised eyebrow at their behavior.

Dewey slurped the last of his pancakes and hopped out of his chair and quickly gathered his plate and silverware. As he walked around the table and his bickering brothers, his eyes fell on the spot where there used to be a pile of cake, and he tried to disguise the wince when he thought of Ms. Beakley having to clean it up especially after having to follow a wet Donald around the house early this morning.

He gulped, walking to the dish washer and throwing them in before turning to Beakley. "Need help with anything?"

She paused in mid step, carrying the pancake batter bowl. Beakley took a moment to check everybody's plate. "You can wrap the rest of those pancakes." She nodded over at the giant platter next to Louie.

Dewey gave her a small smile and walked over to the platter, catching Donald's eye. He shook it off though and took hold of it careful to stay focused only on what he was doing. That is until Louie leaned back on the chair's two back legs with a devious smile.

"You sure you want Dewey handling the pan-_cake-s_, ? He might try and hit you with them." A clatter of metal against granite got everyone's attention.

Dewey looked up to come face to face with his brother's smirk and growled. There were a lot of things Dewey could handle. Most of them circled around his brother's antics but having gotten someone else in trouble especially a friend and then being specifically targeted like he was now was wearing down his cool even if it was the cheesiest and most dullest insult he ever heard his brother say. He needed to not just take his evil brother off that pedestal he liked to stand on but completely chuck him off of it.

Without being able to hold back anymore, he threw himself at his brother, throwing them both to the ground. Louie was the first to hit the ground as Dewey fell on top of him. "It was just a joke!" He yelled in his brother's ear, grabbing the neck of the green hoodie and yanking it up.

"You got us in trouble, and we didn't even do anything!" Louie countered back, jamming his hand into Dewey's face and hoping it throw him off. "I was gonna go with Launchpad to the car race this morning!" He again punched blindly.

Dewey felt each face slap his brother gave him, but it wasn't until Louie curled his fist and ran it into his beak did he stop. "DEWFORD!" A hand gripped the back of his shirt and jerked him high enough in the air that he could see the entire scene in front of him. He held his mouth as he watched with wide eyes. Huey had quickly gotten out of his seat during the fight and was now kneeling next to Louie and checking him over. Dewey hadn't even realized that his older brother was trying to pull him off at the time which explained why his stomach was aching actually.

"Nice going guys." Huey remarked at the both of them, glaring.

Dewey crossed his arms in irritation and turned his head to see a fuming Donald and immediately wished he looked in the opposite direction. "Hehe..." He sheepishly laughed. He was totally dead. "Louie started it!" His mouth quickly slipped out on instinct, trying to minimize the damage.

Apparently blaming others didn't help with things. Dewey vaguely remembered in the past of getting in more trouble because of it too. "Just take me away." He gave up, surrendering to the point that his body lazily hung from where Donald was holding him. When nothing happened, his sight flickered over to Webby who was stock still staring at him, and Beakly's frowning face.

"So am I-"

Donald shook his head and started walking out of the kitchen. " Go to your room and start cleaning." He instructed, sparing Dewey a famous Donald lecture he knew no one would listen to. The grip on Dewey's shirt loosened enough to drop him to the ground carefully because Donald was still Donald and he was too overprotective to spank him. "And I don't want to see you starting any trouble for the rest of the day." Donald warned again pointing at him stoically.

Dewey just stood where he was dropped and scowled. Was it just him or was no one letting him explain himself today? He guessed everyone was in a mood this morning and decided to walk away from his uncle without recognizing he heard what he he made it into the bedroom, he quickly put on his signature blue long sleeve shirt with another shirt over it and looked around the room. It was still a complete mess even before the cake part. Though that didn't help much.

Dewey really didn't want to be here or in the manor for that matter and staring at the mess longer made him despise the idea of being around his brothers for the rest of the day. As the irritation settled in his mind so did a quick decision. He clear cut across the room to his brothers' beds and tore off the sheets, tossing them in a white basket next to the door. Skipping the idea of putting clean sheets on them, he went over to his own cleaner blue bed and grabbed his small backpack sitting on the floor next to it.

He fast walked towards the door and stopped to sling a strap over his shoulder. "Can't get me for not doing something." He muttered, glancing at the blank white mattresses and then the bed frames that had chocolate on them.

Shaking his head, he shut the light off and poked an eye into the hallway. Besides the somewhat creepy and exciting things looming in the darker areas of the hallway it was clear of any movement. Dewey carefully walked down on his toes and posed much like a spy on a mission, avoiding the areas of wood that would squeak and alert the danger and made it to the destination of stairs that overlooked the front door.

To his right he pretended he was holding one of those gadgets cops would use to listen in on conversations and circled his ear with his hands. He could hear Huey talking to Webby or arguing since it seemed they couldn't agree on whatever new creature that Webby brought up, and Donald scolding Louie at his left where the giant living room was in which Louie would probably have his arms crossed with a bored expression on his face. Other than that his chances of getting out of the manor unseen was pretty high.

He snickered, losing his spy character, and slowly descended off the stairs onto one of the few floor carpets the manor had recently gotten. When he got to the large door he remembered not that long ago Scrooge had slammed in his face, he opened it and slipped through quietly before making a break for the red bike Huey left on the front lawn.

The freshly wet green grass stuck to his feet reminding him of the bugs that would crawl up his leg as he ran over and yanked the bike up. The right black handle that was buried deep into the unknown ground of Scrooge's lawn dislodged immediately. It left behind a muddy hole in the grass as he jumped on the cold seat and started riding. He passed the first set of gates and rode down the long hill top of a road. He did a double check behind him to make sure no one came outside and relaxed considerably, feeling like a prisoner who just broke out of the big house.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: This was a bit earlier than I planned to post. I actually have chapters 5 and 7 done with 6 in the works as well as just finishing up 7. Well i'm also guilty of almost finishing 10. I seem to like to skip chapters and go back to do them. Whoops. Also I wanted to thank Melodysouth65 and Leo for the reviews and for those who Favorited. I really appreciate it. ;)

**CHAPTER 4**

After a few minutes passed of him just drifting down the dark pavement lazily, he began thinking about what Donald was gonna do to him when he found out he was gone which was rare in itself for him to think ahead. Considering the situation, he did clean up a little bit of the room and had brought his phone in case something happened so it wasn't like he was being super irresponsible, but he was still grounded.

Dewey frowned as he came up to the last set of gates and stopped. Groundings usually consisted of only being allowed in the places Uncle Donald told you to be and having most privileges taken away like his phone… that he took with him. Not to include he was told to go to his room and clean, but he was pretty sure Donald didn't say anything about having to specifically stay in the room.

Dewey straightened up with more confidence in his vague argument for leaving and pressed the button that was installed on the exit box and speaker. The black metal gates immediately rolled open and as soon as they were apart a few feet Dewey was already biking through. The faster he was out of sight the better chance of no one noticing his temporary escape.

His—Huey's bike cruised along the sidewalk smoothly when he came into the more populated city. Dodging people was the easy part until he had to cross the street where cars were honking and people yelling to move faster. Dewey grabbed the brake handle and stepped off the pedals, looking around. It was like being in a whole new world or concrete jungle just waiting to be explored and filled with adventure.

A couple of interesting skyscrapers loomed over his head with large lit up advertisement signs bolted down on the tops to products only old people liked. Smaller brick buildings had also been thrown into the mix like black sheep, but instead of large international companies most of them were family friendly restaurants and shops.

A nice baby blue subway car caught his eye out of the elaborate organization of buildings. He stopped and pulled himself up on the tips of his toes with the help of the bike and tried to peer over the heads of the Duckburg lawyers or whatever else people did in work suits. At one point after stretching his little neck for all it was worth, he was pretty sure he had passed the appropriate amount of odd looks people should get in one day.

Taking a line from his uncle Donald he's heard so many times when something became so pathetic he was sure it wasn't worth trying anymore, he glared at one particular tall woman who stood right in front of him. "Aw, phooey." He gripped the handles of the bike tightly and walked around the rude woman and went to one of the many bike racks. The black steel shined in the new sun with drops of water hanging underneath as he secured the bike and walked into the subway car diner.

He was actually surprised that once inside it was pretty big and smelled of breakfast. Marble table tops laid across the entire length of the cafe, blue leather seats placed every few feet and booths lined around the walls with giant window views to the busy road. He was standing, he made up his mind, in the 1950's with the only peculiar things being how the people were the only modern looking things inside.

A bell rang over his head as he passed the wooden entrance doors to jump himself onto one of the never ending lined up stools. Dewey's small bag dropped to the ground under his feet loudly, getting the attention of one of the waitresses.

The bird in a black apron nodded at the person in a stool all the way down from Dewey before coming over with a coffee stained notepad in hand. "What can I get you to drink?"

Dewey looked up, seeing her lazy brown face and reading the name tag that stated in capital bold letters 'Stephanie'.

"A large peanut butter chocolate milkshake." He replied without hesitation then lamely checked the amount of money he had left in his worn out wallet. He pouted openly and reconsidered, clicking his tongue on the top of his mouth with a loud pop just to try and get a reaction out of the emotionless waitress to waste time in ordering. "Nevermind, I'll just have water." The blue duck shrugged as if he was saying 'well at least water is free' and glanced away from the girl.

Stephanie's bored expression broke as she chuckled, earning her a silent glare from Dewey as though she betrayed him. "Okay kid, are you waiting for your parents or something?"

Dewey mentally brought a hand to his chest in hurt. Could a boy his age not order a water and enjoy himself? Probably not. "Does that affect my order?" He squinted up at the brunette, raising one eyebrow.

"No, sir." She mused, dramatically writing the order down and twisting towards the kitchen with her knee high vintage skirt following the motion much like when a ballerina twirled.

He saluted mockingly behind her back childishly and stuck his tongue out. He was a 'kid' after all. Dewey turned his head to the previous customer and froze, and he was almost entirely embarrassed that an old bulldog man was staring at him with wide eyes and a fighting smile.

"Hi…" Dewey used three fingers to weakly wave at him to make the confrontation less awkward before stiffly turning forward. That took the win of weird looks he's gotten all day, and he had gotten a lot of different looks pointed his way. Rubbing his hands together, he leaned up against the counter and tried to look anywhere but at the other people.

"Here you go, kid." A loud clunk of glass made him jerk his head up and his eyes immediately brightened in excitement and absolute confusion.

A large milkshake glass towered over his head mixed with chocolate, and he was betting peanut butter too. In all its cold glory it even had whip cream and a bright red cherry on top. It was the most beautiful thing he's seen in all his sugar living moments, and the first thing he wanted to do was stand up in his seat and prance around. Instead, he brought a slow hand out to touch it like he was reaching into the mouth of a lion and glanced up quick enough to see Stephanie wink at him. With a sign of approval being the only thing keeping him at bay, he bounced in his seat and popped the fruit into his mouth without another thought. He'd thank her later Dewey half decided in his mouthful of ice cream.

Lunch started coming around when he finally started slurping at the bottom ice cream, making a loud annoying noise with his straw. This got the attention once again from the dog customer from earlier.

He felt the presence of the larger man sit in one of the circle stools next to him and just like that his magical bubble that encased him in perfect bliss popped. No matter how much the man was making him feel uncomfortable, he was determined not to say anything until the dog did so first especially as his mouth has been getting him in trouble today. It was the scenario of meeting a man you naturally didn't like for some reason and hoped he would get bored and walk away, mostly off of some cliff or tall skyscraper...

"Let me help you out." The dog's voice sounded hoarse as he brought his large hand down on the table with a loud slap and smoothly slid some crumbled cash towards him, making Dewey feel as though this was some sort of bribe.

Dewey immediately dropped his striped straw and shook his head rapidly, pushing the money back to the stranger with as much politeness he could muster. "Oh, no thanks mister. It's okay."

The bulldog rose an eyebrow, and Dewey slouch uncomfortably while slowly starting to reach for his backpack. "Look." The dog started seriously, dropping his friendly tone Dewey knew he was faking the entire time. "I know you're one of McDuck's nephews, and all I'm trying to do is help you out. Just accept the money, so we can get on with it."

Dewey felt his feathers raise a little higher. He might have already guess the guy was not as nice as he cracked up to be but he really had thought this was the best part of the city you could be. "What are we getting on with?" He questioned, glancing over at his previous waitress and feeling his fingers scrape against the top of his bag straps. Running from danger was not his way; however, this was a type of danger he needed someone like Donald to be with to survive to the end. Another escape was about to be attempted.

"Scrooge McDuck."

The duck doesn't even blink, relaxing his hand and slouching back into place. Ever since the beginning of the year with living with the multi-billionaire, Dewey had gotten used to the random gold diggers coming up to one of the brothers and asking to meet with the man. It was hardly worth running from especially since the cushion of his seat just finally rounded perfectly to his butt. "Mhm."

The dog cleared his throat, realizing he needs to specify his intentions. "That man stole something from my brother and killed him. I want revenge for my brother."

Dewey froze like a deer caught in headlights. _Kill? _His eyes widen, and he whips his head to the wrinkly tanned dog. "Uncle Scrooge has never killed." He exclaimed, harshly. His full attention on the horrible dog's next words.

"You don't believe me."

"That's because you're a liar." Dewey spat with anger rivaling Donald's.

The dog lowers his face and his excess fat bunches up over his eyes as he brings a hand up to rub the stubble under his chin. "You don't even want to know the story?"

The duck's beak curls up and just trying to picture Scrooge as a murderer has him sick. He waves the dog off much like a rich person telling someone to get out before security comes. "No. I'm already having a day and don't need some stranger trying to get in my head."

"Huh." The dog states unemotionally and continues to stare at him.

An entire minute goes by, and the dog still hadn't said anything but stare at him, and Dewey began to start going for his bag again, wanting to leave. He was pretty sure he doesn't mind scraping chocolate off of walls anymore as it meant no longer being in an unwanted conversation with a random person about some false claims.

He quickly cleared his throat, mentally apologizing to the waiter for leaving no tip, and gave the man a weak smile that Dewey one hundred percent agreed the dog didn't even deserve before snatching his bag up from under the counter. "Look, sir-"

"The name's James Beagle."

Dewey stopped short once again in shock. Did he say Beagle? As in the Beagle Boys? This time sweat really began to dampen his armpits. Getting in a fight with just one Beagle Boy wouldn't be a big deal as long as there was someone to back him up and a black eye didn't sound too good right now.

Mr. Beagle squinted his eyes at him. "Something wrong?"

Dewey shook his head. "Err… Mr. Beagle, I better g-get going." He coughed in his hand to clear his throat, telling himself he was not being a coward, and briskly stood and nodded at one of the waitresses.

He didn't look back the slightest as he abandoned his warm seat and exited the restaurant he reminded to give five stars online later. "Just get on your bike and go home." He told himself no longer feeling the comfort of the bright shining city.

As he reached his bike, he took note of the mostly dry bike rack but giant puddle next to it that he didn't notice the first time even though it was practically an ocean against the sidewalk. He pulled the tomato red bike out of it's slot and took a move to place himself on the seat.

He barely lifted his foot off the wet ground when his feathers once again lifted on their end. A presence behind him had him jerk away and yelp at the inevitable danger.

"Listen boy. I really just want to talk."

The voice had Dewey tensing and placing his bike in between him and Mr. Beagle. "Yes and we already did." He answered as a matter of fact, leaning on the side of just being the smart alec he was.

Mr. Beagle seemed to grow in size becoming taller as he bared his teeth. "No, you spoiled brat. I just want a few more minutes-"

It felt like a punch in the gut for Dewey. No random person was going to call him a spoiled brat because he didn't want to listen to this guy's stupid story. He was sure that job was specifically for Dewey's brothers.

He stomped his foot in the giant puddle he was currently standing in and pointed a finger angrily at the guy not caring how much bigger he was compared to him. "No, you listen." A lady stopped and gave a strange look at the unfolding scene but continued on her way not caring like most of the residents of Duckburg. "I understand you have some agenda against Scrooge but literally everyone does so go take it somewhere else."

Mr. Beagle- no. Dewey thought. He didn't deserve the title of mister. He wasn't under him, and he certainly wasn't his friend. The Beagle man began talking. "Well I was going to be nice and friendly but I guess that never works."

Dewey cocked his head to the side. "You we're trying to be friendly? You're more stupid than I thought then."

The Beagle huffed under his breath, stretching his hands out and tightening them into fists. "I just want to tell you the truth."

Dewey for the life of him didn't seem to be hearing the warning bells going off in his head and was quick to reply back. "What's wrong with you stupid? Is this some kind of sick joke where you tell me something horrible about my uncle so I join the dark side and blah, blah, blah. Another dumb Beagle Boy plan." He rolls his eyes. "I gotta go and get away from your gross stench."

He left Stupid standing in a puddle alone next to the bustling road as he turned and ran with his bike a good long distance around a building before jumping on the seat and riding off.

His legs didn't seem to propel the bike fast enough as he tried to escape everything about the stupid beagle and telling some kind of _truth_. How dare he randomly go up to him while he was enjoying himself and demand answers. Dewey hated everything about it. He's had to deal with reporters breathing down his neck and even a few foreign merchants asking to get their _stolen_ stuff back from Scrooge's money bin but not murder. That one was new.

He dodged and drove through puddles at full speed, heading to the one place that he was safe and currently calling him for cleaning. The manor.

"Hey buddy! What's up?"

Dewey hit the break and placed his feet on the ground roughly, vaguely recognizing the voice in his thoughts. "Launchpad?"

The larger pilot and driver duck drove up to Dewey dangerously close to running his foot over and parked. "Who else is driving such a stylish limousine perfectly?"

"Heh." Dewey rubbed the back of his neck mentally highlighting the experiences with Launchpad's driving and was happy for the duck to interrupt his riding and take his mind off the Beagle. "Right."

Launchpad squinted at Dewey, shifting the goggles on the top of his head in a more comfortable position and placing his arm on top of the steering wheel of the car. "What's wrong?"

Dewey jumped a little bit at the question and was quick to blame it on the confrontation with Stupid. "Why do you think there's something wrong?" Dewey tested.

Launchpad gave him a look. "Do I look dumb?"

"Uhh…"

He smiles widely at him. "You don't ride a bike after it rains. That's crazy! You get all wet and muddy! You must have something wrong with you to do that."

Dewey's beak pulled into a tight smile before chuckling. "Right. Of course."

"Yeah! Hop you're bike in the back, and we can both head back to Mr. McDuck's house."

Dewey didn't even have time to do anything as Launchpad was already barreling through the driver door and stuffing the bike in the small trunk. It almost made Dewey dizzy at how fast and energetic Launchpad moved even more so than Webby.

"Come on, best bud! Get in!" The bigger duck slammed the trunk shut harder than it needed and got into the driver seat with his hand already on the shift.

Dewey stood stock still for a moment of hesitation, knowing the drive back to the manor meant a wild one that would most likely result in bruises. However, one look at Launchpad's excitement had him laughing and getting in anyways just to spend time with the friendly duck.

"Ready?"

Dewey peaked over the dusty dashboard and grabbed the seatbelt. "Yeah, just let put on my-"

"Okay. Let's go!" Launchpad cut him off with the fast acceleration of the black car and speedy maneuver back into the road. And just like Dewey knew would happen, he bounced and slid around on the dark leather seats while holding onto the unbuckled seat belt for dear life. His head smashed into the window more times in the last few seconds than he ever remembered happening in the past with Launchpad's driving.

"Launchpad!" He tried yelling to him to slow down, warning him to give him a minute to actually buckle up, but it was useless with Launchpad having his window down and casually driving with his head out the window like it was the most normal way to drive.

Dewey felt panicked the entire way. He couldn't sit like it was normal to drive like this when he was so used to Donald being a slow mom driver or having to stop every five minutes to yell at his brothers or someone that cut him off. The type of driving Launchpad did meant if he could drive it he could crash it, and that left a lot money out of Scrooge's pocket and bruises on the passengers who were only happy to have survived.

"Launchpad, I really think you should-" Dewey tried once again to drill some reason into the numbskull as he wasn't feeling in the particular mood of being on a roller coaster.

"We're back!" Launchpad quickly slammed on the breaks, making Dewey rush forward. "And look," he pointed happily at the driveway of the large manor far up the hill where you could barely see a car still parked. "Everyone is still home."

This didn't really help Dewey calm down. His heart was racing and his hopes of some of the family members being gone when he got back was diminishing as it was now going to be a terrible confrontation with them.

"Either you're an evil mole rat or you're feathers somehow got very pale." The driver commented, rolling through the golden gates with his eyes only on Dewey.

Dewey looked ahead through the window and checked for anything Launchpad might hit before yelling at his brain to say something back that would change the subject of conversation, and he was really hating conversations today. "Why were you driving around the city?" Dewey scrambled.

Launchpad shrugged, setting his eyes back on the long driveway and second set of gates that they were coming up to. "Oh well I was going to take Louie to see a race this morning, but Donald called and said something came up." His body deflated. "So I've been just riding around waiting till I had to pick up Scrooge and take him to his money bin."

"Oh." Dewey didn't really want their conversation to turn in that direction either and left himself to say nothing else as another pang of guilt washed over him.

Launchpad for once didn't seem to mind the silence and drove through the gates and quick to the manor. "I'll get your bike out for you." He said, putting the black limousine in park at the east side of the manor.

Dewey nodded and sluggishly left the vehicle no longer feeling the excitement that Launchpad usually surrounded himself with. He blamed that on himself too and reluctantly headed to the side door that lead to the kitchen not even going around a mud puddle in the process. His lower half was mostly splattered with mud anyways after the high speed escape he pulled off earlier.

When he got to the wooden door, he pathetically tried to wipe his feet off on the hard welcome mat Donald had added because he thought it was funny for the unwelcoming Scrooge, but it just left his feet scraped and for mud to clump around his toes uncomfortably. The door slowly creaked open, and he peeked inside to find the kitchen abandoned of life and quiet. He nodded to himself despite the inevitable confrontation with his family and slipped inside, knowing Launchpad might be awhile before coming in.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: The story's gonna start speeding up. It definitely is a slow pace a little bit. Well I think it is. Comment if i'm moving too slow or fast. :)

**CHAPTER 5**

As soon as the door clicked shut, he heard the slapping of duck feet against the floor heading in his direction, fast. He braced himself against the cold door and shut his eyes momentarily thinking if he was quiet enough they'd turn around and leave him be. Of course being invisible was only a super power in movies.

Small hands grabbed his forearm and yanked him forward at an alarming speed and before he knew it he was stumbling into someone his size and snapping his eyes open.

"Where have you been?"

Dewey took a small step back and sighed in irritation at seeing it was only his brother. "What do you want Huey?" He didn't try to hide the disdain in his voice.

Huey was silent for a moment and looked strangely like a mother about to scold a child and Dewey knew he'll do just that.

He watched him lift his red hat off his head carefully and walk over to him. Dewey cocked his head to the side and jerked back quickly when Huey suddenly scowls and starts to hit him with it repeatedly. "This is for being irresponsible and the dumb duck you are." Each syllable ending with another smack.

"Dude, quit!" Dewey yelled at Huey, shoving him away.

The red duck stumbled a step back and roughly placed his hat back on his head then looked at Dewey like he was contemplating something.

A second passed in silence much to Dewey's annoyance, but he quickly wants it back when his brother opens his big fat mouth. "Uncle Donald I found Dewey!" Huey shouts at the top of his lungs, amused when Dewey huffs in irritation.

Dewey hunched over in defeat with his hands over his eyes. He never hated his big brother so much for tattle tailing. "I should have just stayed in bed…" He commented out loud.

Huey smirked with his arms crossed, eyeballing his brother. "Yeah, and now thanks to you we had to clean up the chocolate and look for you for hours."

Dewey peaked through his fingers at his brother with a newfound interest. "You cleaned up the mess?" He asks hopeful.

"Yes!" Huey throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. "I can't believe you! You don't even care! First you throw chocolate at us then you leave us alone to clean up a mess you made! Do you even care that you left without telling anyone? You could have gotten hurt and no one would know." Huey looked at him bitterly.

Dewey let his hands fall to his side. He hadn't really thought they'd worry about him. He was hating coming back because he thought they would just be crossed at him for leaving them to clean, but he sure as heck didn't want to stay in the creepy city. Anyways, him and his brothers leave all the time for different reasons… except for the fact they usually tell Donald or Scrooge. But-

"Ugh." He was beginning to feel worse and worse the more the day went on. "I didn't think- I mean I didn't know…" He trailed off and silently pleaded someone would interrupt him from continuing.

Huey still hadn't budged and continued to glare down at him, waiting for a reply.

Dewey sighed. "I didn't mean to make you guys worry." He watched some sort of emotion flicker across Huey's face. "But you know me, I do things without thinking them through! Because it's fun! Right? Like the internship?"

Whatever sympathy Dewey scraped up after his almost apology completely dispersed when he said that. Huey's scowl came back and more commotion appeared just outside the kitchen.

"Maybe you should start using your head then. You ever think of that stupid?"

Dewey stopped briefly. He didn't care what his brother called him because it was nothing new, but knowing he called the Beagle Boy that not so long ago freaked him out a bit.

Huey dropped his expression quicker than Louie's pickpocketing skills. "Hey, what's wro-" A loud yelp cut him off.

Donald barreled through the kitchen at full speed, surprising both Huey and Dewey who were almost thrown to the ground in the process.

Dewey was quick to right himself up, not wanting to experience another trip to the floor. However, his uncle wasn't so lucky and slid right into the wall, whacking his head. Donald with a dazed look shouted out something incomprehensible and swung his arms around in a fit. Dewey bursted out into laughter with Huey who came over to his side.

The laughter was cut short when an angry growl emitted from their Uncle's throat. Donald, kicking the wall in irritation, twisted around and gave Dewey a pointed look.

Dewey immediately missed his Uncle's tantrum. "Look Uncle-"

Donald shook his head. "Oh, no. You don't get to say anything, Dewford." He stepped forward.

Dewey felt something spark inside of him the forth time that day. Everyone had something to say and Dewey was absolutely sick of it. First Donald, then Louie, the stupid Beagle, and now Donald again!

Crossing his arms, Dewey stood up straighter like a cat warning off a predator. He had already blown up at two people he might as well make it a third. "Right, of course." He replied back sarcastically. "Let's talk about what I did wrong today, yeah?"

He moved back to face both his brother and uncle. They stayed quiet, a bit surprised that Dewey was taking the reins of his scolding.

"I gave my brothers a harmless prank that resulted in bonding with Webby, I then helped clean up even during breakfast, went on a bike ride, met a few people, and came straight home before twelve, and then confronted my family about the issue of my prank. The way I see it I did nothing wrong." Looking at them proudly, Dewey was glad he didn't go with his first choice to just hit someone and see how it ended. Seeing Louie do this kind of stuff all the time was really paying off.

Huey gawked openly and Donald stared at him like he hadn't spoken a single word of English. "You made yourself sound completely innocent!" Huey exclaimed throwing his hands up and completely forgetting how distraught his brother looked a few minutes ago.

Dewey frowned, retorting back "Well duh! That's how I saw it!" You know except some of the details that were left out and sugar coated, but he certainly wasn't going to admit to that.

"What the heck Dewey!?" Huey, being the big brother he was, took over Donald's job in keeping the boys in line. "You didn't even apologize to any of us for turning our beds into cake and disrupting everyone's morning."

Dewey cringed, feeling his situation not improving. "Uhh, sorry?" Maybe he should have just stuck with neither of his plans and stayed quiet. He really does need to start using his head more. "Ugh. I'm so stupid just like that dog." Gazing down at the tiled floor, he lightly hit himself in the forehead for being such a fool all day.

Donald frowned. "What?"

Dewey shook his head, ignoring him. "Whenever things start cooling down I end up messing things up again. I mean I just almost apologized to Huey for leaving but then decided to start fighting with him again. You're right I don't think things through."

Donald began to shake his head, but Dewey refused to look up and began to walk away. He shook his head in disappointment as he came to the stairs and crawled back to the now cleaned up room.

_3 Weeks Later…_

"_You're not mixing it fast enough!"_

"_What!? It's like i'm making a fricken tornado!"_

"_And now you're spilling it everywhere! This is coming out of your paycheck!"_

"_You don't actually pay me."_

"_Well that just means you'll have to make more."_

"NOOOO!" Dewey screamed, jerking his head up and banging it on some metal thing above him. "Ugh." He rubbed the top of his sore head and glanced down at a white cloth that fell into his lap and grabbed it. He turned it over in his hands, barely paying attention to the amount of stains littering it.

"A chef's hat…" He commented, dazed and racing to catch up with his thoughts. Dewey straightened out his back and smacked his head once again on the metal thing above him he concluded was a shelf of some kind as he felt around the area he was in. After another moment of blindly running his hands over metal objects, the duck finally glanced around the small stuffy room and wiped at his eyes to clear his blurry vision.

"Erg!" He pulled his hands away from his face quickly, feeling his eyes burn and flood with tears to wash out whatever was in them.

He squinted down at his fingertips noticing a white powder and exhaled loudly. "Oh no," he spoke to himself coming to a realization. "Flour and metal pans mean-" he was interrupted when a loud bang blew up somewhere above him and then it began raining metal all around him. He yelped, backing into a corner under a bunch of shelves and covered his head.

Praying he would live through the raging metal storm, he gripped his white chef hat tighter and brought his legs up to his chest. The many different pans stopped falling after a few seconds and another loud noise emitted, but this time from a big heavy door opening.

His head whipped to the side and everything flooded back as light poured into the tiny room. Being grounded, working in a bakery for hours on end with a crazy lunatic obsessed with cake. It was like a domino effect of each event knocking back into his brain.

"Boy! You better stop taking naps in here and clean this up if you want to go home for lunch!" A high pitched voice drilled into Dewey's head, leaving him to wince.

"I'll be on it." He replied back instantly, barely missing a beat and peered up from a pile of pans in his tight spot.

The lengthy looking bird man with a tall white hat that struggled to stay up right on his head showed off his title as head chef, and the man made sure for it to be known. "Good because I'm the chef and you have to listen to me. No more pretending you're in some adventure that involves you climbing the shelves again." He pointed warningly at Dewey.

Dewey didn't really take the man seriously as he shrugged him off. When the first week of baking cakes flew by non stop with the walking skeleton, Dewey became more familiar with him and found his way around things like sending a wink to one of the chef's cute daughters got him out of washing dishes. He meant there is only so many times you can pretend you're fighting off monstrous beings that are only burnt batter on the side of a pan that wasn't buttered properly. People could say whatever about him, but he proudly learned to be a snake from his little sneaky brother.

Dewey shook his head from those thoughts when he pictured a scowling Louie dropping his phone in the toilet just a few weeks back after the cake fiasco. However, that particular moment ended up with him writing down reminders in every place imaginable even on his brother's forehead.

Chuckling, he crawled out from under the skyscraper looking metal shelves and patted down the flour clinging to his white apron. He was happy that no more of the stuff got in his eyes as he got down on his knees to stack pans.

"And don't forget to take the cakes out of the oven before you leave. I'm gonna run to pick my daughter up from her dance lessons." The chef said, his voice bouncing off the storage room walls.

Dewey grumbled to himself, asking without thinking. "The hot brunette?"

"What?" The chef whipped around with an expression equivalent to a ready to strike serial killer.

The young duck gulped, glancing at the chef behind him. "Nothing boss! See you later!" He turned back around with a grimace on his face.

The door slammed shut and Dewey allowed himself to take a breather. He continued to stack each pan, and stopped briefly when he held up a pan shaped like a pirate hat. "Hmm…" he considered the possibility.

He gave the pan a peculiar look and slowly brought it up to the top of his head. "Grr… you better start talkin' or yeh be walkin' the plank." He stood up to his full height and jumped on top of the shelves, holding onto the supports with one hand. The storage room was quick to turn into a raging sea with a haunted wooden boat inside. "No? Well I'll jus' have to kill you then." Dewey glanced around and quickly found a dry mop to use to point at a sack of flour that was now his cruel enemy. "Arg, put yur hands up you-"

"Wow. Dewey, this is a new low for you." A voice stated behind him that irritated Dewey to no end.

Dewey slouched his shoulders and quickly dropped the mop and pan to the ground between two stacks of pots. The dark ocean drained faster than his imagination of being an exciting pirate because like adults say imagining pirates, ghosts, and monsters was adorably cute, and he was neither of those things. His imagination had just embarrassed him once again.

He turned around, landing back on the room floor, and saw his brothers leaning against the storage room doorway. Huey was the first to move towards him and clap him hard on the back. "Don't be rude Louie. Dewey's just adventure deprived. I actually wrote the symptoms down in my book."

Louie chuckled walking over. "Really? What does it say?"

Huey eagerly opened his red book up to a back page and held it up close to his face from his peaking brothers who couldn't see it. "Well the first sign of adventure deprivation is boredom; however, this quickly escalates for the person to resort to childish imagination to fill in their lunatic need of excitement causing them to be a complete nut-"

"Huey!" Dewey exclaimed, yanking the book out of his hands, and examining the pages. "They're blank! You lied!" He looked over at his brother, accusingly.

Both his brothers bursted out laughing. "Come on, you know it's true." Huey stated, wiping at his eyes.

With a sigh Dewey gave them an unamused expression. "What are you guys even doing here?"

Louie shrugged. "I thought we were going to go get lunch together."

"You're a _bit_ early." He motioned towards a clock that showed it was two hours before twelve O'clock when he got out of working.

Huey gave Louie a smile who nodded back like some cryptic message. "Well I guess you'll just have to get out of work early then and go on a little adventure with us."

Dewey felt his mouth drop open. They said adventure, right? As in a legit adventure that involved running and exploring the depths of the unknown. His brothers were absolutely right about him being deprived. After being officially grounded three weeks back Donald had been very clear to Scrooge that they were not to go on any grand adventures including finding a rare artifact in the uncharted jungles of South America in which Scrooge didn't entirely mind leaving Dewey behind to bake cakes and take everyone else to go. Now don't get the old man wrong, Scrooge had told everyone to keep it a secret from Donald and him, but then there was the trueful Webby and that was self explanatory. She wouldn't go behind Dewey's back because of there close relationship, and Dewey wasn't mad for long when Webby had told him at least Scrooge didn't want to hurt his feelings and rub the trip in his face.

"Adventure…" Dewey looked up to the ceiling with a determined face that kind of creeped out his brothers.

"Uhh… yeah, man. Are we going or…?" Louie asked, confused and making a gesture to leave.

Throwing his chef hat and apron in the corner, Dewey nodded excitedly. "Help me put these pans on the shelf."

They obeyed Dewey's orders reluctantly and by the time they were done they practically ran out of the storage room in fear they'd have to clean up more. Their duck feet smacked against the sidewalk at a continuous rhythm joined by children's laughter and occasional snickering when a duck in a green sweater ran by a stand full of fruit with a bag of bananas suddenly missing.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was completely raised in the sky by the time the triplets stepped into the sandy perimeter of the park. Louie took a bite of his yellow banana following an excited Dewey who was skipping to the swings and with Huey walking tall between the two, carrying their swiped bag.

"Louie, I expect you to go back and pay for these." Huey presented the bag of fruits and twirled the bag in his hand. "And don't think I won't check to make sure you do it."

The green hooded duck shrugged, taking another bite. "Fine. Let's leave right now. I've got ten bucks right here."

Huey skipped a step, pulling a face like he ate something sour. "Well, I mean it can wait. Most of it isn't even ripe. They probably just sprayed it with a color chemical and called it good to go."

Louie smiled. "Yeah, if we have to wait for ripe fruit, they have to wait for cash." The duck nodded in agreement and pushed ahead of Huey to join his middle brother on the red swing set.

The eldest duck frowned. "Wait. I don't think that's right-"

Dewey was high up in the air by the time Louie came over to his right and began to lazily swing with his feet dragging in the sand mounds. "Come on, Huey. We'll just pay on our way back."

All three brothers swung together for awhile. Dewey made jokes to Huey about getting out of his shower when they were swinging simultaneously and Louie called him a child up until they all got caught swinging at the same time.

"Ugh. I have to go back into work covered in sand." Dewey slowed down and wiped at his white collared shirt.

Louie gave a hard laugh. "Stop calling it work like you earned it. You don't get paid." He was returned with a handful of sand to the face.

"Shut up, Louie!" The red duck scowls and peaks over at Dewey who is now swinging once again. Dewey's face is settled neutrally and was staring up at the cloudless sky where it meets the ocean. He was ignoring both his brothers.

Huey spoke up again. "He knows what he did was wrong, and he's learning. You can stop rubbing it in his face now."

"Like you haven't been doing the same thing." The duck rolled up his green sleeves and pointed a finger at Huey. "At least I didn't ignore him for a whole week."

Huey threw his hands out. "I was mad! It's better than picking a fight with him every five minutes-"

"Hey! I do passive aggressive not actually being aggressive! Dewey did that himself."

Huey nodded exagerently. "Mhm. Right." He opened his mouth to keep going but Dewey beat him to it.

"Why didn't you guys invite Webby?" The bickering brothers stopped short and gave each other an honest look.

Huey decided to go first. He knew how close Dewey and Webby have gotten. "She was busy doing some journaling in her notebook." He shrugged trying to not make it sound like a big deal.

The family knows to watch what they say when dealing with certain subjects in front of Dewey. However, It was different based on the duck like for Huey it was direct and only the facts, but with Louie, you had to skim some details and make sure to focus on the message not the story. It makes him start questioning everything, and for Dewey. Dewey doesn't need the details of everything. He's known to reflect the wrong emotions.

"Was it the sparkly one or plain pink one?"

Huey tilted his head in confusion. Was Dewey actually asking? Last time he remembered they were in a good relationship. "The pink one."

"Oh." Dewey shook his head and combed his fingers through his styled hair. The one covered in sparkles was Della research. The blank pink journal was Webby's personal emotions. It meant she was thinking about Lena again.

After Magica De Spell and the stupid shadows came and threw them all through the ringer, Webby was the most broken felt. She had lost a friend. Lena, yes most of them didn't like her in the first place, was Webby's best friend. They had something that the brothers couldn't give to Webby. She needed a girl friend not the boys.

"Was she happy?" He just had to ask one more question.

Louie gave him a strange look as everything dawns on him. "What? Dewey," He pinches his beak to take an exaggerated sigh, "We both know you're talking about Lena and the whole thing with Magica De Spell but that was weeks ago. Come on, she's gonna get better, Dewey, it just takes time." Louie wasn't smiling anymore but breathing a bit heavy in Dewey's direction. "Just support her and don't get caught up in the worry."

Huey on the other side couldn't believe what just came out the youngest duck's mouth. He did decide to keep it rolling though. "Yeah." He glanced back to Dewey. "Lena was her first friend. Her best friend and it's hard to go through a loss like that. You have to give her time to deal with it. For now, why don't you just focus on paying off you're punishment. Then we'll go on some great adventures with the whole family!"

Dewey didn't move only to stick the tip of his foot into the white sand and create a shallow hole. "I know." He muttered. His hangouts with his brothers usually ended up like this. They told him he was worrying to much and that was Huey's thing, but Dewey really just wanted Webby to feel better. He's watched her from the hallway, writing in the pale notebook not even noticing he was standing there, and she always notices. She could somehow keep moving her pen left to right for hours until the purple ink ran out and was scrambling for the next pen to meet its end. It's like she was so memorized by her words she couldn't hop about in her own room. She wouldn't take a break and her grandmother's words would just float in one ear and out the other.

His brothers keep telling him to not worry because that's what he's constantly doing. There's nothing to take his mind off of Webby's depression. He has no adventures to look forward to or pranks to deal since there really wasn't anything he could do.

Dewey frowned at his feet that now made shapes in the ground before he flattened them both and pulled himself out of his seat. He peered down the hill from where the park stood tall at the top and inspected the large crowd of docks and boats. Webby was a case he seriously didn't know how to make feel better. He could make his brothers laugh, but his pink bowed friend and sister would just chuckle at his jokes. They weren't even real! She'd fake it long enough until there was something to take Dewey away from her. He wanted to help so badly.

A bird squawked above him, and he motioned towards it only a few feet away. The white feathers were fluffy and sprawled in random directions near his neck though his grey wings stood out smooth yet when it opened them up and flapped itself off the ground, the bird's feathers of its large wings became uniform to each other, gliding down the grassy hill and letting it stop to perch on a random boat. Dewey eyed it the whole time and drifted his vision from the bird down the shining metal pole it stood on all the way down to the actual boat.

It was dull looking compared to the others. The deck was made of wood that might have been a good hundred years old and the body of the vessel might be made of aluminum with how well it stood against the banging of the edge of the dock. It also seemed to hold up well with the heaviness of the partial cabin. He wondered how well it did out to sea too.

A smile spread across his face, and he took off down to the beaches and right of the pier, leaving his brothers behind to call for him. When his legs began to shake from the long sprint to the docks, he stopped to catch his breath in front of the magnificent beginning of an adventure.

"Dewey!" Huey hollered after him barely getting within a foot behind him before falling on his knees to pant loudly. "Please. Please don't do that again. I know we run a lot but that doesn't mean I can actually run a lot and still be in one piece."

Louie wasn't that far behind either. Well he got to the start of the dock and just decided to lay flat on the wood and give a thumbs up directed at them. "I hate you."

The blue duck gave a breathy laugh and inspected what was in front of him. The same small boat actually looked way worse close up. It turns out the owner didn't really seem to come down that often. The fishing nets weren't put away properly but thrown across the bow and molding in some places, a few life vests that were all neon pink had holes from rats chewing on them and maybe even a nest built in the one squashed between two wood boxes, filled to the top with strung mooring buoys. Of course they all had dried seaweed and barnacles stuck to them. Nevermind being a hundred years old, it looked like it's been sitting on the deck unoccupied for that long.

Dewey flashed a toothy grin at Huey who was finally back on his feet. "Ready for an adventure?"

The red duck glimpsed at the boat and back at Dewey with a pure look of disgust. "I am not setting a foot in that filth."

"I second that." Louie calls from where he's laying.

Dewey keeps smiling until Huey gives in.

"I hate you too." Huey draws out and stares at the boat defeated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Wouldn't mind reviews, btw. ;)**

**CHAPTER 7**

"You have no idea how to start it, do you?" It was not a question.

"Shut up, Louie! I know it's this wire and maybe this wire…" Dewey squinted up at his handy work presented to him. "I know this one starts it, and I think… Yeah, this one is the ignition. I guess I might fry something if the cooling system doesn't work unless rot got to it first, but…" He did a bit of tweaking, tongue sticking out of his mouth. As he currently laid underneath a brown dash that used to be solid white, the boat began to emit a horrible cranking sound on and off like grinding gears. "This isn't at all like the house boat." He finally admitted openly.

Louie snorts. "Really? Did the fish smell inside the engine give you that hint or the molding of literally everything?"

The blue duck glared up at him from where he was laying on his wet back, feeling moisture soak up into his royal blue t-shirt. _At least the darn thing was free just sitting here collecting bird poop, and so what if the oak floor boards felt really soft like a giant bowl of oatmeal. _

He questioned mentally why he was here again. "Someone's being a sass today." He commented, taking another test run at getting the engine to sputter and away from the idea he might collapse through the floors.

"I wouldn't be if you just admitted you don't know how to start it."

Huey stood there the entire time like an idiot, leaning against the badly painted booger green walls and not saying a word but to make sure the youngest siblings didn't start fighting. At least physically anyway.

"Are you gonna tell him stop making fun of me, Huey?" Dewey pointed out loud, yanking himself out from under the jungle of wires and plastic.

"Nope."

The duck curled his break up at him and didn't say anything else. Standing on his own two feet and dusting the webs off his blue shirt, Dewey picked off a long black gooey string from where it hung on his sleeve and made a face of disgust, flicking it away off his fingers frantically.

In panic, Louie jumped, hollering at Dewey for his stupidity and hid his feathery body half behind Huey who was now being tossed in between the two.

"Will you guys quit? Dewey, just start the boat already and let's go." Huey ordered, pushing the brother behind him away.

The said duck rolled his eyes and kicked away an empty blue beer can to cross a fading carpet and sit on the captain's fake black leather armchair. "Fine. I think I figured it out anyways." Dewey was one of the three brothers who took up basic knowledge on mechanics especially because of their plan last year to steal the houseboat and ride it to that boring old city. Motivation for the duck to learn only involved a guarantee of adventure. Figures.

The boat was a surprise to even be floating with it's conditions. The wood that stopped you from falling through the floor was broken in some spots and really soft in others. It had spores growing in corners and a nice colony of black mold at the point of the boat where a broken red light was. The cabin only consisted of three and a half walls with a screen door out to the stern and cut out rectangles on either side. The front used to be a full wall but cut in half with a saw and not even smoothed down where the edges stuck up, making a forest of possible splinters. The thick plastic that covered the parts that went down to the engine underneath was bolted to the wall and a perfectly circle steering wheel presented itself on the left. The only good part of the whole boat.

As Dewey situated himself, he entwined his fingers and cracked his knuckles, wrenching an abandoned screwdriver from a box of junk under his hanging feet. The screwdriver was shoved into the key socket, and Dewey twisted the silver metal until the engine gurgled and eventually hummed to life.

He smirked at his brothers. "Told you I could do it."

Louie rolled his eyes and came over to lean on the back of the driver's chair. "So then where are we going, hmm?"

Huey noticed Dewey paused for a second then all at once the middle child grabbed for the gear, ramming it backwards.

The older duck jumped. "Wait, Dewey! The ropes are still attached to the cleats!"

The boat lurched backwards a foot out of its space near the dock and jolted _hard. _The brothers stumbled as the front end reeled right, smashing back into the docks, and the reer demolished itself with a big bang into another boat that was much more expensive than this one.

Everything became eerie quiet when it all settled. Dewey had the decency to look innocently at his brother, Huey. "Oops?"

In retrospect, the eldest brother should have known this was going to happen. It did not make him feel any better about himself for not being able to avoid the incident. "Dewey…" He started before a shout resounded outside the diy cabin.

"My boat! That's my boat! What do you think you're doing!?" The voice sounded like it belonged to a big animal, and Dewey quickly decided he was not going to be the first one to confront him.

The look on Louie's face said the same thing. That only left Huey to clean up the mess like he usually does. The red duck sighed, rubbing the palms of his hands roughly down his face. "Why…" He groaned.

The moment the brothers stepped out of the cabin and their eyes fell upon the damage, they realized it wasn't gonna be so easy to get out of this one. The damage was probably fixable, mostly. They stood on the bow as the rear continued to move calmly with the waves, directionless. The boat next to them was not as calmly riding the waves as them. Dewey hid behind his brothers to avoid the furious look from the owner. No doubt would make him feel more guilty than just dragging his brothers into trouble while being grounded simultaneously.

It's vessel sat a good foot under the tide where it was supposed to be, and the crimson glistening strip that ran down the sides horizontally was more vertical in one spot. A large crack the size of Beakley could fit in it. It looked like thick white fabric torn at the seams and a bumpy tan surface underneath. Strings of white hung out and tapped the water with each rock of the boat. Money certainly needs to be on the owner's side. The boat itself was made of fiberglass and aesthetically pleasing to look at besides the sad booboo in it. Quality polished white body and cabin, black glass surrounding three sides, and thin metal railings. A nice cabin cruiser, indeed.

Louie bumped Huey's shoulder harshly, receiving a scowl in return. 'Listen sir, we apologize for the damage. _Somebody_," He smacked the duck behind him, "didn't take check the ropes. Again, we are very sorry and will pay for the repair." Huey pressed his fingers together and gave a kind smile to the figure standing on the dock.

The angry owner of the boat hadn't moved since they left the cabin and was staring at them in a way neither of them could decipher. His ears were propped close to his large rectangular head and black eyes wide. Most likely a mixed breed with a beagle. He was a large dog, bulky shoulders, beer belly, stubby legs that were as round the brother's heads. The dog could do more damage to them than they did to his boat.

"I have something else in mind." He spoke in a hard voice, growling at each end of the word.

Dewey jolted with alertness. He stepped back from his brothers and peaked over from behind Huey's back. Adrenaline pumped in his blood, muscles tensed, and feathers went frigid. The tone was too similar, and this was all too confidential. What stood in front of himself and his brothers was the greasy beagle who had freaked him out at the cafe weeks earlier.

"What the duck?"

Huey took his turn to elbow him next. "We are really really sorry. If you want-"

The dog cut him off, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I have a better idea." He waved at them to get off the junky boat they were gonna hitch a ride on and they did so without question.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie stood in their order side by side on the dock. The beagle raised an eyebrow at the army like style. Donald was a sailor after all. It was only natural he'd raise his children with at least some sort of similar way.

"To teach you boys to take care of other people's stuff, I'm gonna make you clean up your own mess." He folded his arms like he was trying to make himself look bigger for his prey. "Follow me, kids."

No one moved from their spot, turning their heads to glance at each other before Huey decided to follow more than a few steps behind. Following a big beagle who hallucinates a murderous Scrooge? What could go wrong.

They made it up onto the boat and the beagle stopped at the cabin door, almost like he was hesitating. "Heh." He patted his pocket lightly. "Looks like I forgot my keys oh well."

He raised his arm and all the ducks flinched not knowing what was to come next. The dog rammed his elbow into the small glass panel in the door, smashing it to sharp pieces. He grunted at the force rubbing his slightly bleeding elbow. His hand reached inside the darkness and rattled the door handle and popped it open.

"Well, I guess you three can fix that too while you're at it." He remarked allowing the ducks to enter the cabin.

Huey jumped over first, helping each brother cross safely and then started to pick up the giant shards and toss them into a black bin sitting next to the door. It was brightly lit inside once the beagle switched the solar powered lights on and fell into one front leather seat for the driver.


End file.
